


Perfect Strangers

by Psycho_Socialight



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Poor protagonist, Possessive Behavior, Rich protagonist, Self-Destruction, Soulmates, rich/poor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psycho_Socialight/pseuds/Psycho_Socialight
Summary: Jay never wanted to meet his other half, but fate, unfortunately, had other plans. Lex never dreamed of being an overbearing partner, but he never wanted to possess something as much as he does now. The two tango with the prospect of individuality and the promise soulmate-hood. Slowly they lose themselves to each other, and to the dreams of steering their futures solo. Which vision will prevail, and which vision will fail? Who is to know?
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second story on this account. Honesty, it is way easier to write. However, I didn't make a skeleton of my story prior to writing it. I am playing this by ear.

Engulfed by in the grimy steel belly of a mechanical monster, I sit as the automaton rushes over countless train tracks like a bat out of hell. Watching numerous blurry objects flying past the window only worsens my headache and upsets my stomach. Instead, I opt to study the rubber tread lines that make up the floor of this train cart. Idly my eyes dart to my left forearm, a burning sensation emanates for a patch of flesh. Disgusting is the word that pulsates from under the worn threads of my henley and the hoodie clinging to me. I am disgusting. 

I roll up the sleeve of the hoody covering my shivering shoulders. This jacket is one of the many trophies I have claimed from various escapades, I couldn’t put a name to who I got this from. The assaulted skin beings to settle on my forearm I find the tatter integument memorizing. The patch of flesh only becomes more lovely with the increasing splashes of red. I did it again. My fingers poke and probe the wound.

Fuck anyone who tells me not to pick at scabs, I love it. Crimson lazily oozes out from the areas where I pluck crusted blood away from. It doesn’t hurt, not as much as most would think it to. Real torment is the stabbing pain wreaking havoc on my head; This is punishment for drinking myself into unconsciousness from the night before. It is hard to admit, but the current scenario playing out has happened far too many times for me to count. My crippling hangover and self-mutation have become somewhat of a habit.

Call me a masochist. I would be stupid to deny it, I am drawn to pain like a moth to a flame. I am 28 years old, single, and all too willing to mingle. During every one of my escapades, some idiot asks about the soul mark on my arm, and I feel compelled to tear up the patch of skin. Who won't? I have tried everything from burning it off, slicing it off, and even grating it off. No matter what I do, the words heal back unmarred. Any other patches of skin would have healed back with some form of scarring.

Everyone gushes and gloats about finding their one and only. Most people have the first words their soulmate will ever utter to them etched somewhere on their body. Other people that don’t have a marking and can live alone completely content for their natural-born lives. The words can be written in any number of languages, in different fonts, and colors anything you think of you name it. Mine is one single word, “disgusting.” As a child, I would scratch at the horrid word completely desperate to rid myself of it; unfortunately, this recurrent act of skin slashing carried into my adulthood. I never wanted to find my other half out of fear. Nobody else I know of has such an ugly word stained on their skin. A lifetime full of verbal abuse and possibly worse can only come from meeting the person who is bound to say this to me.

Unconsciously, I started to scratch at my arm again. With my attention consumed by the myriad of depressing feelings haunting each thought, I don’t notice that someone has approached me. Only when I feel a hand attempting to pry my arm away from the growing wound do I notice the unwanted attention of a bystander. Being yanked forward causes me to gag a little.

“Disgusting,” with only that word electricity goes surging down my spine. Blood smears against the stranger’s skin and I can’t help but smile. The second I look up I am met with the embodiment of the word handsome. Figures, the world’s most enormous assholes tend to be beautiful; All they have to do is bat their lovely eyes, and everyone melts in the palm of their hands. “Please tell me you aren’t infected?” Even if I was infected with some transferable disease, this is the last person I would tell. Judgment burns in his silver-like eyes. Despite how rude his words are, his voice is deep, hypnotic, and I am transfixed by its tune.

I hate how everything about this man is stunning. From his wavy sandy blonde hair to his gray eyes, and a chiseled jawline. “Honestly, there are other people around.” The model-esk man claims a spot next to me. The stranger’s eyes land on a mother and daughter sitting in a parallel spot from us. For a brief second shame fills me, no child should have to see someone as disgusting as I. “Nobody wants to watch you claw at your arm.” 

Words stay stuck in my throat, and my lips remain sealed shut. He is right, I know he is. This is a truth I was already well acquainted with, but hearing him say it adds a special sting to the ugly fact. It doesn’t matter if he is wrong or right because, in my mind, I can’t see what’s right, pride is one hell of a blindfold. No matter how glorious he is, he isn’t worth my breath. I would eagerly continue clawing at my arm if he weren't around.

Desperately I try to convince myself that this bystander is appalling, but it is to no avail. Even his scent is alluring; This revelation is highly annoying to me. He smells like a bonfire. I idly watch as he rummages through his backpack. From the bag, he pulls out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and cotton balls. Something about this seems so comforting, but I hate the sense of familiarity I feel towards this stranger. “This might sting a little.” Who the fuck carries this stuff around?

The burn of the alcohol is still nothing compared to the pounding in my head. Once the new and old crusted blood is scrubbed away, he can make out the letters on my arm. Lightly he traces his thumb over the letters. Under his breath, he whispers, “I wish I had said something nicer to you.” For some reason unknown to me, I let him continue the light caresses. He hums to himself as he studies the letters on my arm. “I’ve tried doing the same thing, but it never works. If it’s any consolation, what you’re going to say to me is much worse.” His feathery touch ceases as he resumes tending to my wound. “There’s no point in staying silent. I know what you’re going to say.”

Stomach acid threats to travel up North as the smell of antiseptic finally hits my nose. My mind loses the battle as my stomach's content flees my mouth. The stranger next to me doesn’t utter a word but throws a knowing glance my way. Had anyone else looked at me like he did, I wouldn’t care, but the amount of disappointment and sadness swimming in those gray eyes makes my blood boil. “Fuck off.” A chuckle breaks through the budding silence as he rolls up the sleeve of his blue button-up. Seared into his skin are the two venomous words matching what I had previously said. I already knew the words were there but seeing them really cemented this situation into the realm of reality.

A sad smirk finds its way to his face. “There it is.” Quickly he finishes patching me up and scribbles what I can only assume to be his phone number onto my bandages. We sit in silence for a moment bumping shoulders awkwardly with the sway of the train and stewing in the tension between us. The sting of tears threatens me. I try blinking the tears away, but it doesn’t work. I don’t want to cry, not next to this asshole. The stranger next to me offers a Kleenex, and I snatch it away instantaneously. His lips press against my ear as he softly mutters, “I never wanted to meet you.”

While glaring at him, I whip the remnants of vomit from the corners of my mouth with my sleeve. “Back at you,” A shit-eating smile is slapped across his face. I can’t piece together why he’s amused by that comment, but my stupid mind dwells on how handsome he looks when he smiles. The train comes to a halt. I watch him collect his things, and I feel my heart sink. He can’t leave, not after pulling a shitty stunt like this. 

Before exiting the train, he winks at me. “If you change your mind, you have my number.”

“I won’t.” With a heavy heart, I tear my eyes away from his shrink silhouette as he exits the train. Something tells me that seeing him get off the train would be excruciatingly painful. I pop my headphones on and listen to some [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-AK2pcF8NQ) to take my mind off of this strange compulsion to dial the number he gave me. 


	2. Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The star-crossed strangers meet once again. Hopefully, the two get off on a better foot this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get names in this chapter! Chapter one was difficult to write since I didn't have anything to address the characters. I really hope you guys like this story I am trying to fix all my errors prior to posting, but they sneak up on me.

  
I sit slumped in the black leather upholstery chair that is the shotgun seat of a red wine 124 Spider convertible; Staring at the blur of streetlights rushing passing us as their reflections dance on the windows of the car. "There is someone I'd like you to meet," Drew announces as he proudly maneuvers the sports car through the traffic. "He could make our dynamic duo into a thrilling threesome." Finally, Drew takes a breath and reflects on what just came out of his mouth, "There was probably a better way to phrase that." 

"Maybe take a break from talking for a while." Drew nods in agreement but quickly resumes rambling. Music blares from the speakers as Drew continues sputtering out some nonsense about finding someone to spend the night. I just nod and grunt in acknowledgment of the endless chatter spewing from him. We both know my mind is somewhere else. Not once does Drew make a snide remark regarding my lack of attention; No, he just continues the very one-sided conversation pretending that I am clutching onto every single word he utters. I hold my arm outside the vehicle to momentarily enjoy the sensation of wind whirling through my fingers; The pleasant distraction of gallant gale provides itself ineffective in grounding my thoughts. 

An eternity passes in all but the course of three days since my last venture on public transit. Time is enamored with the prospect of torturing my mind as all my thoughts have looped around one person. Not once have I had a notion seeded itself in my mind over the last 72 hours that have not pertained to the stranger I had encountered. Never have I felt like such a loser, and for what, some self-destructive punk battling a hangover? Humiliation and hunger are the closest I can get to labeling my current state of unease. I am the one wanted by onlookers, not the one who wants the company from members of the typical crowd. The majority of people that look at me fall completely head over heels; gender has never been an obstacle. It can only be the case that my soul mate has piss-poor visual acuity or has some other sensory perception impairment. How could someone as homely as he, ignore someone so attractive? Pale skin marred with self-inflicted wounds, a rat's nest of straight jet-black hair, and such dejected brown doe eyes. Why is it now that the urge to meet him again has overcome me? His absence is irritating. 

  
"Lex, get your head out of your ass." Drew slings his arm over my shoulders and manages to wrangle me into yet another night club. The only reason I allowed this charade to play out is to rid the stranger's presence from all regions of my headspace. God, I hate places like this. Hordes of scantily clad individuals groping and grinding each other in sync with the deafening noise concocted by a subpar DJ. It must be plain to see that this type of venue is not my cup of tea. My eyes linger on the coked-up amalgamation of bodies; the visage is not dissimilar from that of an orgiastic ritual, and Drew seems all too eager to partake in the debauchery before us.

Drew guides me through the onslaught of bodies until he reaches his destination. My shitty friend shoves me into a familiar-looking stranger. Without missing a beat, Drew claims a barstool next to my fixation, "This is Jay." Drew's eyes are burning holes into the back of my head as he expectantly waits for me to voice a series of salutations or ask a polite number of safe questions, but I don't. "This is the guy I was talking about in the car." Two words echo in my ears as I look toward Drew and back at my newly acquired obsession, thrilling threesome. Silently, I curse Drew for putting that sequence of words into my head. If I were a pubescent boy, hormones would be waging war on my body this very second. My heart thuds against my ribs, threatening to escape its bony confinement like a bird desperately trying to flee from its cage. For the sake of my pride, I pray no one notices how anxious I have become. 

A pair of chocolate brown eyes dart over to survey me. Like a glutton, the sliver of attention that Jay granted me only causes me to lust for more. Tonight somebody styled Jay's jet-black hair, the majority of the locks swoops gracefully to the side showcasing of his more exceptional facial features. Why did I ever think his appearance was homey? Reluctantly Jay extends his left hand out, a hand I am all too keen on taking. "You must be Lex." Each word that slips past his pouty lips is dripping with venom. Despite the amount of anger radiating from Jay, the only thing that strikes me is how wonderful it is to hear him say my name. With an ungodly amount of disdain toward me, Jay snarks through his pearly white clenched teeth, "What a small world." 

Shockingly, Drew picks up on the slight animosity between us; he isn't the most empathic individual, but it's also possible that the tension isn't as subtle as I believe it to be. Drew just chuckles awkwardly before chiming in, "Have you already met?" Nervously my best friend, shifts his weight from his left leg to his right and repeats the motion. If anyone else looks at Drew right now, they would probably assume he is in dire need of a trip to the restroom, but I know better than the casual spectator. 

Before I can get a word in edgewise, Jay abruptly answers, "Not really-"

"Yes." A wave of silence falls over our trio. Jay shoots an adorably vicious glare my way. Honestly, I will happily bask in any attention Jay is so gracious to supply me with, be it positive affirmations or no. "A few days back, I patched Jay's arm up. Didn't catch his name back then." Drew's head just bobs up and down, acting like the lovable buffoon I know him to be. A thought sprouts to life or rather a question. "So, how do you know each other?" So, help me God if Drew says anything remotely close to, they screwed all hell will break loose. My brain pictures the two of them wrapped around each other, coated in sweat along with other fluids, while the two heavily pant in a dingy motel room.

Even though the question was meant for Jay to answer, Drew butts in, "I bump into Jay all the damn time! Well here and in some other clubs too." Immediately I register two things; One Jay gets around and two, he has probably slept with more people than my fingers can count. "This slick bastard can get into anyone's pants." My stomach sinks, I can't stop myself from wondering why isn't he trying to get into my pants? Jay laughs, the sound is akin to a siren's call. If only I could make him laugh. If only I could have been each of the targets of his numerous sultry escapades. 

  
  
Before I can say something, I will regret the bartender slides, Jay a drink. Drew whistles at the busty barista, but his catcall fails to catch her eye. Instead, she bends over the counter; her larges breasts rest on top of her arms as she leans in to whisper something to Jay, for a split second her striking mismatched eyes dart to me. Nobody takes notice of how the corners of her ruby red lips curl or the way her eyes sparkle with mischief. If Jay didn't occupy every facet of my mind, I would fully understand Drew's attraction to her. She possesses an unworldly charm with a set of stormy blue and emerald green eyes, a darker complexation that of someone with lineage tied to eastern countries, and slightly weighted. Whatever she whispered made Jay turn as red as a tomato. The woman pulls back and says, "The gentlemen over there ordered you this."

Jay glances at his admirer, sitting further down from us; He then peers down at the concoction and smiles to himself. Without hesitating, Jay polished off the beverage. "Looks like I've found myself a good time." The barista laughs, and Drew gives Jay a thumbs up. How can he entertain the idea of pursuing someone while in my company? Jay excuses himself from us, Drew shouts out words of encouragement and slaps Jay's ass. All the while, I just stand there slack-jawed.

Drew sits beside me completely content with staring at the women behind the bar counter as she dries off some glasses and completes other mundane tasks that her job entails. She must be aware of how Drew's gaze follows her, because every other second, she'll briefly make eye contact with him and faintly smiles before returning to her tasks. The two of them never share sentiments, but instead, opt for this weirdly intimate muted moment. My face flushes I feel like a voyeur lurking in the shadows intruding on something too sacred for my prying eyes to witness, I elbow the hopelessly twitterpated Drew. A sharp jab to the ribs was far more effective than I anticipated. Drew almost falls out of his chair. He laughs off his spastic behavior before making his way to the dance floor in search of a body to grind up against all while projecting the calm-cool collected demeanor of a dog in heat. The barista seems somewhat upset by the loss of his presence even though the two hadn't sparked up a conversation. Regularly, she winds up with her eyes glued on Drew rubbing his crotch against some random disease-riddled women; I find myself doing something similar when I realize I am staring at Jay again. 

  
The two of us ideally stalk the objects of our affection from afar, as we quietly sulk in our respective pity parties. My eyes dart to the women's name tag before muttering something just loud enough to be heard over the screeching sound they call music, "Theo, when did you meet Drew?" She cocks her head to the side in confusion. Without having to look behind me, I direct her attention to my friend. 

"I've seen him more often than my own family," A sad excuse of a smile graces her crimson tinged lips. "Believe it or not, we haven't even talked." I laugh controllable at that. My amusement does nothing expect to cause ire and irk to brew within Theo. "What so funny?" All the humor I found seconds before dies at the tone of her voice. She must think I am mocking her, but that isn't the case. My friend is a motor mouth, he talks a mile in a minute, and nobody could ever accuse him of being timid. 

"Drew never stops talking." Staying that out loud made the realization all the more jarring. Over the years I have known Drew I have learned that he could hold a conversation with just about anyone. What makes her the exception? "He could make friends with a rock."

Theo just nods and graciously allows the uncomfortable conversation to die. A wicked grin overtakes her face as she spots me observing Jay flirt with someone old enough to be his father. The bartender gives me a knowing look. "Your way more attractive than that guy." 

I scoff at her, "That isn't news to me." Theo opens a beer and sends it my way. "I think I have already burnt that bridge. He probably hates me." She shrugs her shoulders. I order a few drinks to down as I sit alone, wallowing in my patheticness. The alcohol slowly but surely works its magic and numbs my restless mind. Not once do my eyes stray way from Jay and the other guy. The man molesting Jay has his hand resting on Jay's upper leg, his fingers twitch to squeeze Jay's inner thigh lightly. I tear my eyes away from the torturous scene playing out. "Does it hurt when you see Drew hanging all over somebody else?" I cutch at the fabric covering my heart in an attempt to express the type of pain I am referring to; The barista just stares at the countertop as she digests the question. Theo pinches the bridge of her nose and tightly shuts her eyes, taking a brief break from the overstimulation of laser lights, obnoxious music, and the twitching tangle of bodies. She pours herself a shot and guzzles the bitter drink down before sighing, yeah. There is a great deal of hurt in the weak reply, but I don't push her to elaborate. I glance at Theo's misty eyes, "I don't think they feel this pain." She pats the forming tears away and takes another swig of vodka. 

"Doesn't matter." Thoe lays her eyes on the older man and Jay, cozying up to each other. "All they want is something to wrap their legs around." Theo reaches over the bar and grips my shoulder lightly, "Unlike me," she slugs back another shot, "you don't have to sit and watch." Guilt take hold of me for a minute. How many times has Theo had to witness Drew groping someone else? She is living in a hell perfectly tailored for her, I can't imagine what she feels. The guilt dissipates the moment I spot Jay straddles the older man my vision goes red. The barista chortles when I begin seething, I jolt up, causing the barstool I occupied to clatter to the ground. "Godspeed Hun," Theo shouts as I sprint to Jay. Maybe it's the alcohol, perhaps it's the feeling of emptiness or this unextinguishable anger, but I feel fucking murderous. 

I violently pry the pleasantly pale burnet away from the fondling fingers of the older man. Drew must have been nearby because the next thing I know, he is trying to restrain me from beating this perverted fuck to a pulp. Drew bellows, "Lex stop," but I am too far gone. Shit has hit the fan; my inner rage possesses me and Drew currently lacks the strength and sobriety to detain me. Drew gives up restraining me before I begin to lash-out at him as well, he melts back into the mess of people.

The old fucker's face spews blood; it gushes like a fountain; this isn't enough to slate my wrath. Why is this bastard awarded the opportunity to touch what's mine before I have? Without much thought, I have begun throttling the jackass. I hunger for his death. Stopping isn't a viable option, not until I see that the light shining within eyes is snuffed out. Whether it is due to blood loss or asphyxiation couldn't matter less, I thirst for the obliteration of this pervert, the means to which Faith quenches my yearning are of little consequence to me. Nothing audible escapes the blue lips of the purple-faced man below me, nothing to hear except the sweet sounds of him gurgling on his blood. 

One single voice effortlessly pierces through the commotion like a knife slicing through butter. "Lex," At first, I ignore the lovely sound. Once more, his voice requests my concentration, "Lex," Two hands cradle my head and guide me to look at their owner. My eyes are fixated on Jay as he kneels on the ground beside me. When he realizes, he has caught my undivided attention, he begs, "Please stop." Without hesitation, I relinquish my grasp on the older man's neck. "What's wrong with you?" I don't know the answer to that. What isn't wrong with me would be much easier to answer.

His chocolate eyes shine with fear as he stares at me. Jay looks like he is about two seconds from running away, but to my surprise, he doesn't. "I could ask you the same thing." Jay's hands slip away from my cheeks; I miss their warmth against my skin. I point at the older conscious man, "You would fuck this guy?" Jay nods without the slightest air of hesitancy as though I had asked the dumbest question in the world, "That is-"

"Disgusting?" The pale burnet finishes the thought before it leaves my tongue. Like an idiot, I mutter, yeah. "Well, guess what asshole? Last time I checked, I didn't ask for your approval. Did I?" His left hand's spindly fingers begin scratching at the bandage covering his right forearm. I can't think of anything say back because he is right. If this were anybody else, I wouldn't give less of a damn whom they slept with or how often they switch partners, but I do now. If anyone is to blame for this debacle, it is Jay. I am partially at fault, but something set me off. Had Jay stayed with me, I am positive none of this madness would've transpired tonight. I don't know how I have become the villain in this scenario, but if I have to, I will play the role Faith has dealt me till death. 

Jay shoves me as he tries to leave, but he is too weak to cause me to stumble. On instinct, my hand surges to catch his wrist before he has the chance to make any headway. "Where are you going?" His sweet brown eyes burn with hatred as he stares at me, and the sight is making my pants tight. I wish I could lock him in a cage and keep him away from the world. He would mine entirely then. "Stay." I pull his slender fame into my chest. My growing erection rubs against Jay's stomach, and he squirms, which amplifies the sensation. 

Jay all but growls, "Let go!" I entertain the idea of appeasing his demand, but I am trying to make up for my loss. Why can't I hold Jay when the haggard pervert got to grope him to his heart's content? That hardly seems fair to me. Jay squirms some more, but I couldn't care less. The only thing filling my thoughts is how right this feels. We are like two puzzle pieces connecting. His hair brushes against my chin, I nuzzle my nose into his now disheveled hair. Jay smells like apples, cinnamon, and gin; The scent is strangely comforting and seductive. "Drew, help" Hearing someone else's name leave Jay's lip almost sends me into another bout of furry. My hold on him only increases, to my delight, the action produces a breathy gasp to flee Jay's lip. 

Drew just seeks refuge by blending into the background amongst the faceless crowd of dancing bodies. If I turned my head, I would be able to pluck him out from the rabble in under a second. Like always, Drew is hiding, or trying to, out of fear for not knowing how to handle the situation. Undoubtedly, I have placed Drew into quite an uncomfortable position. He must be wondering which of his two friends should he be helping or whether or not he should intervene. I whisper into the crook of Jay's neck, "I think he's busy."

  
  
Jay knees me in the groin, successfully freeing himself from my hold. "You can fuck right on off!" I won't deny those words burn far worse than anything else I've experienced thus far. "This," his index finger alternates from pointing to himself and me, "won't work. EVER." Jay begins his trudge to the exit, but he stops to turn around to say his goodbyes, "See ya around Drew." Jay's gaze locks on me once more; something tender flashes through his chocolatey eyes before he flips me the bird. Jay's figure completely vanishes into the crowd of people. 

Drew just hollers, "Ohhhhhhhhhh!" My head snaps his direction. "What? You were kind of being a douche." I massage my temples and let out a heavy sigh. Drew notices my current frustration, "Someone needs a cold shower." He laughs his head off and offers, "Wanna go home?" Nothing could sound better.


	3. Many Knights for Varies Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Randoms song you should listen to
> 
> Brittle Bones Nicky- by Rare Americans https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gtv40bOE3U4  
> Milk Man- by Rare Americans https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wiifCAd3_uk

Overstepped Boundaries

My jealousy jolts as I know you are lovely inside and out. It's no wonder you have an abundance of fans

My head halts as I realize I hate cuddling, in this case, I half-heartedly allow you to explore my fleshy expands

My questions quiet as you quill my need for compliments and the wants of my hormonal glands 

My goosebumps bubble rising to the surfaces as you force me to trend into very foreign lands

My skin sadly stained with the feeling of slim coating my thighs from your clammy hands 

My brain burdened and ever boggled, bolted in time by the moment where your failed kiss stands

My laughs lay as still as led due each of your attempts to make a joke that never sticks much like your comedic plans

My voice lost its volume as I never stated my discomfort nor my prohibitions and bands

My aimless alternate thoughts ask me, how am I managing to fake these feelings? The answer always slips away like sands

My eyes cannot enjoy your habitation. Get some colors in your home, and maybe buy some fucking crayons.

My alarms failed to announce each one of your unrealistic passive-aggressive demands.

My nails need nothing more than to spill your blood; maybe your flesh will suffice until what's left are only muscle strands. 

My faith forever faltering from your sweet nothings primarily composed of ifs and and's

My heart havoc, for I lost faith in the concept of love and the intelligence of most humans.

* * *

What Did You Do?

You liked me. I thought I needed you, a sugared tongued boy that was unable to do wrong and unable to be a sleep-in-late snoozer

You unknowingly showed yourself to be a puppeteer, but you wore the disguise of righteousness, a pious, always preaching bible user

You lips even when locked, they spoke great lies that I wished were true. You were fake nothing more than a sneakily sweet verbal abuser

You made me out to be unworldly weak, as fragile as fiction. Maybe you were right who am I? I am nothing more than a sobbing loser

You said I was the one begging, and never once did you cave. What right did I have to be the chooser?

You were wrong as was I. Despite your pending condemnation for my poor choices, I elected to be a boozer.

You know my address as I know yours. If you chose to stalk me, I will you, in an unknown cruiser.

You know of my continued abstinence, and I know of your boisterous claims of nights spent tangled with whores.

Your condescension knows no bounds while your arrogance oozes through your many pores.

Your sleaze is undisclosed sins that are forever grudgingly held in the arms of your victims’ cores.

Your manipulative molestation makes convicts and sexual offenders blush in awe of your lores

You never minded space. Your persistence, I hated, though it managed to break through all the doors

Your obsession of cleanliness wafted through your home and left spotless every one of the floors

You're disgusting. A smirch upon man. All who find you will conclude you're a new breed of man, one akin to boars

* * *

I am to Blame as Well

I wanted this, I wanted us, I believed I wanted this relationship to work 

It could have possibly been my pride at fault. Always a flaw I could not shirk 

I may have fallen too easily for your manipulation and reality mirk

It could be I feared you all along with the negative thoughts that lurk

I hated myself near you. I was but a patron and you, Misery's clerk. 

If we were friends, undoubtedly it would have been you I love

If you didn’t push me for physicality, maybe it’s you I couldn’t shove

Ifs are fine, in hindsight but the fact of the matter is that you didn’t respect my space

Is someone like me extremely awkward? Yes, you knew this, and you never slowed your pace

In the moment I knew you wanted closeness so despite my discomfort I trained my face

I knew that second this was disgusting. Each uninvited touch a suffocating disgrace

Ignoring every red flag, I cease my complaints and thusly allowed your unwelcomed chase

Inconceivable, how I had unconsciously rejected your proclamation for a marital case

Sorry I'm just looking for a good time. Enjoy the clubs and feel the base.


End file.
